𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Chapter Forty-Six: The Council Of Elena

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By the time the barge had reached the northern shore, Legolas had fallen unconscious. I'd hardly noticed his lolling head until it had fallen against my chest, my eyes being previously fixed on the flickering yellow flame of the beacons in the far, far distance. As the barge bumped up against the docks of the large port opposite Midwater, some lanterns began to come to life from within the small watchtower. The watchtower, aside from the warehouse for storing goods and the garages for the boats, was the only building at the port. Unlike Midwater, the port on Aerith's northern shore was more of a guard station than a town, meant to see travellers and goods through to the city.

"Who goes there?" the voice of a tired, night-shift guard called out over the lapping waves.

I looked up, and the guard had descended the watchtower, lantern in hand, and come to the dock, grabbing up the rope and fastening it to the docks.

"Are you injured, sir?" he kneeled down, and his concerned face quickly took up a confused frown, "Are you an elf? I thought your people had gone from Aerith after the war," finally, he looked up at me, likely for clarification.

The moment his eyes met mine, he staggered backwards, just barely maintaining his footing enough to keep from spilling over the edge of the dock and into the black water.

"By my stars, it's the Princess!" he took a clumsy bow.

"I seek counsel with my father," I said, "Please, can you spare a stallion to relieve ours?"

"Of course, my Lady, at once," he bowed away, making for the watchtower.

I looked down at Legolas. His sleeping face no longer bore its usual hardened frown. He looked peaceful. I hated to wake him, but gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze nonetheless.

"Legolas," I spoke softly in his ear, "We're arrived."

He stirred faintly so that his face looked up into mine. He squinted against the faint lantern light, taking a moment to register everything about him.

"Already?" he said at last, groaning as he struggled to a seated position with my hand on the small of his back.

"Your horse, My Lady," the guard had returned, clutching the reins of a red-brown mare.

"Help me with him, won't you?" I nodded at Legolas.

The guard had set down the reigns and the lantern in one instant, and was gripping Legolas's forearm the next. It was in that moment that I realized how much I'd taken to being treated as equal to everyone else. When I wasn't the Princess, but, simply, Elena. I sighed and took Legolas's other arm, and together, we hauled him to his feet and helped him onto the horse.

"Retire him to the stables," I said to the guard, nodding at the silver horse that had gotten us to Aerith, "See to it that he is well fed and watered. He is a noble horse."

I gave the beast a pat on the nose, before swinging myself up in front of Legolas. I nodded my thanks to the guard, before cracking the horse's reins. It broke off in a soft trot down the path. I realized with a sort of pang in my chest that it was the same path Gandalf had taken at our parting before the start of this whirlwind adventure.

It sunk in, then, that I was home. I'd made it home.

Behind me, Legolas released a groan of pain. I realized the choppiness of the horse's motions were likely jarring his injured leg. I reluctantly slowed the horse down.

Legolas looked up at me, then back at the mountain peaks, among which faint embers of a dying flame could still be made out. He looked back at me.

"We haven't any time to take care not to hurt my leg," he said, "Go as fast as the mare can carry us."